


The Frontliner and the Bug

by Regenerating_Degenerate



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Disaster Writes Nonsense, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Impregnation, Insecticon, M/M, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Other, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regenerating_Degenerate/pseuds/Regenerating_Degenerate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sideswipe was really overcharged. Even as shit-faced as he was he could tell. And you know why he could tell? He could tell because he was currently on all fours with his panel withdrawn trying to tempt Bob to mount him. </p><p>*Read the tags*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highgrade and Dares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EggParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggParty/gifts), [KittyKatt25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKatt25/gifts).



> So this is much sinning, ye have been warned.

Sideswipe was really overcharged. Even as shit-faced as he was he could tell. And you know why he could tell? He could tell because he was currently on all fours with his panel withdrawn trying to tempt Bob to mount him.  
Now Sideswipe had done some stupid things in his life, but this had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. And the only reason he was even doing this was because of a dare. A dare.

Sunstreaker is going to kill me. He thought as Bob sniffed at his valve, curious over what his master’s brother was doing. And I’m going to kill Hound. But it wasn’t really Hound’s fault, it was his own fault for getting overcharged and then proposing a game of truth or dare.  
Sideswipe shivered when Bob nuzzled his swollen outer lips. Forget that train of thought, this was all Hound’s fault. He almost chickened out when the insecticon licked at his valve, glossa slipping in between his outer folds but he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it from the others if he did.

At the taste of Sideswipe’s lubricants, Bob’s tempo increased, glossa going deeper with each lick as he searched for more of the delicious fluid. Sideswipe couldn’t help his arousal. He’d fantasized about this enough after accidentally seeing the insecticon’s spike while giving Bob belly rubs.  
It was impressive to say the least, and by impressive he meant really really big. But a fantasy was just that, a fantasy. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it actually happening.

He moaned suddenly as Bob’s probing glossa pressed against some of the nodes lining his valve’s entrance. Slag, that feels good. He thought as lubrication production increased and his valve walls started to twitch weakly.  
“Nhh…” His entire frame shuddered at the sensations coursing through him, fans kicking on to try to get rid of the building heat.

There was a dull thunk as his helm collided with the floor, keeping it raised was too much work. He turned his head so his cheek rested against cold metal and peeked behind him. Bob’s frame was only slightly visible, the position he was in wasn’t too good for seeing the happenings as they happened.  
Another shiver found its way through his frame as the assault via Bob’s glossa on his valve continued. More nodes were found and prodded and his valve clenched, trying to catch something too small to be caught.

The glossa slipped out to lap at Sideswipe’s anterior node and the red Autobot shuddered, a small noise escaping his vocalizer. His fans kicked on with a rattling whirr, the sudden sound causing Bob to stop and cock his helm in confusion which made Sideswipe whimper at the loss of pleasurable sensation.  
The insecticon resumed licking at Sideswipe’s valve, his glossa lingering a little longer with each lick until the frontliner was squirming restlessly. Sideswipe whined, pushing back a little, feeling impatient with the slow pace.

“Bob~” He coaxed, the insecticon perking up at the sound of his name. “Come on~” The bug chirred and moved around to lick at Sideswipe’s face, the Autobot grimacing as his own lubricant was slathered across his faceplates.  
The frontliner shifted his weight to rest on one elbow while he lifted a hand to wipe his face. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He muttered to himself. The highgrade’s effect was starting to wear off and as he sobered up he realized that this was not a very good idea.

Sideswipe sighed and used his hands to push himself into a sitting position. One leg propped up close to his chassis and the other laid flat against the ground. Allowing himself to slouch against the nearest wall, he put one arm around his raised left leg and used the other to pet the bug collapsed halfway upon his right leg.  
Bob purred in appreciation of the helm pets he was receiving. All previous interest in the red frontliner’s weeping interface array seemed to had been abandoned. Another sigh and the Autobot dropped his left leg to gather Bob in a hug, the insecticon squirming but not protesting the manhandling.

Sideswipe let his fingers rub one of the bug’s many spikes. He still felt charged but he forced his panel to close. This had been a stupid idea, now all he wanted to do was find Sunstreaker and sleep. And hopefully forget all about the dare.


	2. Hangovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

The following day, Sideswipe onlined his optics to the urgent beeping of his internal alarm before shutting them right back off with a hiss. Ouch. Bright lights after a night of drinking did not lead to a happy onlining in the morning. He sent a command that dimmed the lights and then curled up to get back to sleep before startling at the sudden, loud purring right in his audials.

The red maverick promptly shoved whatever was making the gleeful snuffling noises, wincing some more when he heard a sharp yelp and a loud crash. Optics onlined as he rolled quickly onto his stomach, gazing in confusion down at the distraught insecticon wiggling on the floor, attempting to get off his back.

Huh? He checked the room, yep, it was his and Sunstreaker’s room, and yep, he was on the top bunk, his bunk, so what had Bob been doing up there as well? The bug usually slept curled up at the foot of Sunstreaker’s bed. 

He let himself dangle off the edge of the top bunk to check if the daffodil was still asleep. The berth under his was devoid of it’s usual brightly colored occupant. That was strange. He pondered on this for a moment before pulling himself back onto his berth, letting his legs hang off. 

Maybe Sunny had gotten lucky? The bond was blocked so that was a plausible theory. Said theory was quickly discarded as the door to their habsuite slide open, revealing it’s other tenant. Sunstreaker gave Sideswipe a questioning look as he shifting his weight to pop a hip and threw his chamois over one shoulder.

“What’s Bob doing?” The insecticon’s little pedes were waving around in the air as it’s owner moved towards the yellow twin via waves of a rippling fashion. The whole thing was hopelessly amusing and Sunstreaker couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

Sideswipe grinned widely, the bond was unblocked now and Sunny had stolen some of his nausea away. With his pain down to a manageable level, he could find amusement in the situation he was presented with.

“I might’ve,” he pressed a fist to his lips and gave a little cough, “pushed him off the bunk?” The wording he chose was hesitant, it gave the appearance that he was asking a question when he was not. 

Sunstreaker gave him a long look, sighed, and bent to help Bob back onto his feet. The bug wrapped his glossa around his owner’s black digits in appreciation, rear end wiggling happily. 

Sideswipe started, hazy memories appearing from his short term cache at the sight causing his face to scrunch up as he tried to remember exactly what he’d done the previous night. No luck. 

“Sideswipe?” His twin inquired roughly, snapping the red frontliner back to the present. 

“Huh?” He asked, head snapping up to stare at Sunstreaker blankly. Sunstreaker’s facials twisted into an amused grimace. 

“Just how drunk did you get last night?” Sideswipe’s brow furrowed, a hint of a frown tugged the corner of his lips down as he tried to recall. 

“I dunno.” He huffed, frustrated. 

Sunny stopped petting Bob and stood up, walking over to climb onto Sideswipe’s berth, shoving his brother aside so he could lay down comfortably on his back, one arm resting on his stomach while the other went under his helm as a pillow.

Sideswipe moved from where he had been sitting to lay down next to his twin on his side, pressing the length of his chassis against Sunstreaker’s side, craving the comfort that physical contact with his brother brought.

They both ignored the whine from Bob, who had climbed on top of Sunstreaker’s berth and was attempting to join the two.  
“Should we-” Sideswipe began before Sunstreaker interrupted him.

“No, leave the daffy bug there, he’ll settle down soon enough.” Sideswipe hmmed softly, one hand curling against his chest while the other flopped across Sunny’s tummy to hold his servo. 

They stayed like that for a while, until Sideswipe’s HUD informed him it was time to leave for his shift. The red frontliner grumbled, pushing away from Sunstreaker and dropping to the floor, startling both Sunny and Bob, who’d drifted off into light recharge.

“I gotta go Sunny.” He whispered, smiling when his twin merely grunted, giving him a pass for once. Usually, the yellow frontliner vehemently protested all the nicknames Sideswipe used. Their bond let him know that Sunstreaker really didn’t mind the affectionate monikers however. If his brother’s disdain for the nicknames Sideswipe used was real, Sides knew he’d drop the childish actions at once. It wasn’t worth an upset Sunstreaker.

He crossed the room and palmed the panel, throwing a look back at Sunny as the door obediently slid open. Sideswipe wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into his berth and hold Sunstreaker and stay like that as long as he could but he knew if he skipped his shift, Prowl would drag his sorry aft to the brig. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and get Chapter 3 finished and posted soon, you can bother me on Tumblr to make me work faster.


	3. Try Try Try Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2444 words of smut, enjoy and sorry for the tardiness.

At the end of his shift, Sideswipe headed back to his room instead of joining the rest of the Autobots heading to Wheeljack's lab to try the inventor’s latest brew. He didn’t feel like getting overcharged so soon, especially after what had traipsed the night before. The red twin’s memory was slowly coming back, and did he really try to get Bob to mount him? Primus. The worse part was he couldn’t even blame it all on being overcharged. Sideswipe wanted, wanted so bad his tanks churned in self disgust. What was wrong with him?

The frontliner curled his left hand into a fist and gently punched the door’s panel, tapping his feet as he waited for entrance into his room. Sunstreaker treated the door too rough and it protested by making them wait to be let in for longer and longer periods of time. The door finally slid open and the first thing Sideswipe did was bend down to pet Bob. The insecticon had rushed from his nest to the door in record time as soon as he heard the hiss that signaled it opening. The bug drooped a little when he saw it was Sideswipe and not his master but perked right back up when the red twin petted him hello. 

Sideswipe gave him one last pet and then straightened up, gently pushing the insecticon back with one ped in order to walk into his room. The door slid shut behind him and as he headed to his berth, Bob trailed after him, chattering about how lonely he was and how that one scary vent tried to eat him again. Sideswipe hmmed at whatever the bug was nattering on about. He didn’t speak insecticon so that was the most he ever contributed to the conversation. 

Instead of climbing up to his bunk, Sideswipe sprawled out on his brother’s berth, shifting to accommodate Bob when the bug hopped up to lay next to him. Bob nuzzled the frontliner, looking for attention and the red twin mindlessly lifted a hand to stroke the insecticon’s head. Bob purred happily at the affectionate gesture. The bug looked up at Sideswipe and hesitantly placed one of his many hands on a bright crimson thigh. The owner of the thigh didn’t notice, too busy thinking. 

Bob took the lack of a reprimand as permission to place a few more hands on Sideswipe’s leg and to lean forward and lick at the seams of the Autobot’s interface panel. Sideswipe jolted, snapping out of his thoughts to gape down at Bob in surprise. The insecticon’s butt wiggled in anticipatory glee. They stayed that way for a spell, Sideswipe’s vocalizer hissing static before suddenly resetting.

“... Bob?” The frontliner croaked before cracking a somewhat reluctant smile as the butt wiggling began again with vigor. Bob surged up to press his helm against Sideswipe’s cheek, chuffing like crazy. Sideswipe’s hands hovered over the bug, unsure, before they slowly lowered, he was pretty sure he had just been propositioned by an insecticon and since he was not overcharged, that was the excuse he was going to use later for what he was going to do now. 

Sideswipe’s interface panel snapped back with a click! and Bob turned to look so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. That was amusing enough to draw a half hearted chuckle from the frontliner despite the nerves he felt. He was about to interface with an insecticon and it was not going to be like last time, not like when he ended up chickening out as his level of intoxicity slowly dropped. This time he was going to go through with it.

There was nothing to keep him from doing so. In preparation of a mission accompanying Optimus as a bodyguard, he'd been given two days off. Sunstreaker would be out on patrol until tomorrow morning and all his friends had retired to Wheeljack's lab. Being hungover would keep them from seeking out the louder twin, and no one ever seeked out Sunstreaker unless they had a death wish. Either that or if they were damn near unkillable like Wheeljack.

Sideswipe found himself praying that the inventor did not decide to come looking for his brother. Despite the fact that Sunstreaker was out on patrol, Wheeljack never checked the work schedule and would probably assume Sunny was holed up in their quarters like he usually was. If he barged in, in the middle of this... activity, Sideswipe didn't know what he'd do.

During all this, Bob had been busy slurping at Sideswipe’s valve, which had progressively gotten wetter and wetter as lubricant production increased with each swipe of Bob’s glossa. 

Sideswipe slumped, one hand stroking Bob’s helm, the other curled uncertainly against his chestplates. There was another clicking noise and the frontliner found himself sitting up to find out what had caused it. Oh! Bob’s interface panel had retracted. 

The sight of the insecticon’s spike was enough to make his mouth water. It was large, larger than any spike Sideswipe had ever seen before and segmented. The first segment was the same dark color that covered most of the bug’s frame. The second, was a bright cheery yellow, not unlike the color of his brother’s paintjob. Along the sides were a series of bumps and on the top, following the length of the spike, was a raised line. It continued all the way to the base, which was rounder than the rest of the spike. 

When he swallowed the oral lubricant that’d collected in his mouth while he’d been busy admiring the insecticon’s spike, he noticed his glossa felt heavy. Sideswipe gently shooed Bob away from his valve. The bug whined at him but the bot was too distracted preparing himself to pay attention. 

Sideswipe shoved a couple fingers inside his valve and started stretching himself roughly. The burn felt nice. He slipped a fourth digit in and groaned at the stretch. The frontliner snuck a quick glance at Bob’s spike and moaned helplessly as his probing fingers pressed insistently at a particularly sensitive bundle of sensors. It was going to be a tight fit. 

The crimson twin swallowed again as he pulled his now sticky digits out of his valve, a rush of faintly glowing transparent blue lubricant following their exit. Bob nuzzled him, seeking to get back into the frontliner’s good graces, wanting to continue what he’d started. 

Sideswipe gently swatted him away and rolled up onto his knees, placing his hands palms down on Sunstreaker’s berth and hesitating before lowering his chassis, knees sliding apart as his aft was pushed skywards. The process was accelerated by Bob. 

The insecticon had, in his state of excitement, mounted Sideswipe and earnestly started thrusting away. His spike missed the frontliner’s valve and merely slid against its swollen lips, making Sideswipe jolt when his node was roughly rubbed against.

There was a moment, with Bob’s hips working busily but fruitlessly and Sideswipe mentally composing himself, before the Autobot shifted his weight to free up one hand and reached around to grasp Bob’s spike firmly. He squeezed and the insecticon froze, chirring at him in question. 

Sideswipe vented noisily and quickly guided the bug’s spike to his valve, where the head rested against plush lips. The frontliner made an encouraging noise when Bob gently rocked his hips, increasing and then decreasing the pressure against the tight ring of Sideswipe’s valve, which complained despite the frontliner’s prepping. 

Bob yipped happily and his hips snapped forward with more force, making Sideswipe freeze, fans whirring to life, as the bug’s spike popped into his valve. His valve, in turn, clenched tightly, and Sideswipe had to invent heavily and force himself to relax, bringing his hand back down to recover his balance. 

As the vice like grip of Sideswipe’s valve loosened, Bob shoved the complete first segment of his spike into the wet heat. The insecticon purred in pleasure, the low noise accompanied by a moan from the frontliner. 

There were a few experimental thrusts before a pair of hands rearranged themselves to get a better grip on Sideswipe’s hips and red bot yelped as the second segment of the insecticon’s spike was suddenly pushed forward halfway to join the first. 

His valve throbbed, he hadn’t stretched himself enough for this. Sideswipe fervently hoped that the lining of his valve didn’t tear. That would require a visit to Ratchet and questions Sideswipe didn’t know, and didn’t want to answer. But, at the moment, the pain wasn’t too bad, it was mostly amplifying the pleasure he felt from feeling stuffed. 

Bob drew out halfway and sank back in, repeating the motion a couple of times until the full length of his spike, minus the bulb-like base, managed to fit in Sideswipe’s valve without drawing too many pained groans from the one being mounted. 

The insecticon thrust shallowly, waiting until the frontliners groans of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure before he began pistoning into the wet heat. Squelching noises accompanied the motions, the guilty party was the slow penetration, which had made Sideswipe’s valve lubricant like crazy. 

The frontliner kept up the cacophony of groans, moans, whimpers and whines with the occasional purr of tired engines before Sideswipe screamed, back arching as Bob’s spike slammed into his ceiling node, triggering an overload. Valve walls clenched randomly as the insecticon continued driving into the frontliner, building up and extending his overload until the red mech slumped, ventilating loudly. The only thing keeping his hips up was the many arms the bug had wrapped around his waist.

He whimpered weakly as his now overstimulated valve protested the furious pace Bob had kept up, said insecticon was now warbling loudly as his grip on Sideswipe fractionally tightened. This was accompanied by a last, frenzied thrust that made the Autobot yelp before a whine escaped as his valve walls were suddenly spread apart by a considerably wide girth, wider than the insecticon’s spike was.

Bob chittered pridefully as the base of his spike swelled to lock Sideswipe and him together, his Master’s brother would make a wonderful carrier for the eggs the bug was about to deposit into the red twin’s gestation chamber. He crooned as he felt the first egg began its’ journey into what would be its new home for roughly a week.

Sideswipe, in turn, only cried out softly as he felt something wide spread his valve lips until they paled with the effort. He moaned weakly, hips jerking sharply as the object finally popped in, making the frontliner feel overstretched as he felt th-the, whatever it was, pulse at the entrance to his chamber. His chamber reluctantly spiraled open, allowing the thing to enter, where it settled heavily. He felt like he had swallowed a stone, a big one. One that was warm and also throbbed to the rhythm of his frantic sparkbeat.

The red bot wiggled, feeling the foreign object roll slightly as another egg suddenly pressed against his valve lips, making his cry out softly. He didn’t know what was going on, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Sideswipe grunted when the egg, after squeezing past his lips, made its way into his gestation chamber, where is thunked against its twin. 

He couldn’t help the hiss, or the way his valve walls started twitching, at the feeling of yet another egg struggling down his passage into his chamber. It was starting to feel good, and he could feel his charge rising. So focused was he on the sensation of the egg coming to a rest with the pair already in his gestation chamber as yet a fourth egg started its journey, when Bob chittered and nuzzled him, Sideswipe yipped and jolted as if he had been shocked.

He had kind of forgotten about the bug, as difficult as one would think that would be, but Side was lost in a haze of pleasure that made it hard to think. The majority of his processor power was being diverted to keeping up the block on the twin bond, because sure, Sunstreaker was his twin but that didn’t mean that what he was doing in this moment would go over easy. Having a split spark twin was not some magically perfect relationship like everyone seemed to think, it took effort to maintain a steady level of comfort, respect, and love. And Sideswipe wasn’t so sure on how his yellow counterpart would react. 

The train of thought was derailed at the barrage of pleasure coming from yet another egg, he was reasonably sure it was the fifth. As reasonably sure as one could be with a gestation chamber full of objects slightly larger than Optimus’s fist. Sideswipe made a soft noise at the sensation of Bob nibbling gently on his neck cabling, it felt completely different from the eggs forcing themselves into his chamber and that only served to ramp up his sensitivity. The frontliner shuddered, overloading for the second time that evening, valve squeezing tightly, causing the insecticon locked to him to grunt in a combination of pleasure and discomfort. 

“Bob~” Sideswipe gasped out, arms trembling. Bob chirruped at him curiously, resting more of his weight on Sideswipe’s back in order to nuzzle him some more. The bot lowered himself onto his forearms, the action pushing his hips up a tad higher, making Bob resettle against him. 

His HUD flashed alerts, complaining about his near empty tank and damaged node sensors. An alarm started ringing, he wasn't sure about what. If Ratchet had been present, the scroll of text that popped up would've made him concerned enough to stop cursing and threatening to reform Sideswipe into a toaster. A particularly urgent alert made him divert enough processor power to carefully look it over. Apparently, shutdown was imminent, his systems were just too stressed to remain online. 

Sideswipe groaned thickly as he felt what he hoped was the last egg settle in his chamber. Sprawled against his back, Bob chortled happily as the base of his spike began to deflate. Once he could thrust without making Sideswipe moan in discomfort, the insecticon resumed the pace he’d set before they’d been tied together. The frontliner was jostled from his haze abruptly and could only brace himself and moan brokenly. 

Sideswipe shuddered when, after a moment of Bob’s continued thrusting, the bug finally overloaded. A rush of hot transfluid filled up his valve, and then his gestation chamber, the excess liquid squeezing past the insecticon’s spike to stream onto Sunstreaker’s berth. 

Sideswipe couldn’t help the thought about how angry the yellow frontliner would be over the mess before his HUD went angry red and he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes, this is only semi-beta'd.


	4. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but needed.

Sideswipe awoke in his own berth, sprawled out on his stomach, with one arm trapped underneath his own weight. This alone gave him pause, he distinctly remembered having been on Sunstreaker’s berth and engaged in something. Now, he was on his own berth, and rolling onto his back he found, clean and shiny. 

Sideswipe sat up and searched around his darkened quarters for sight of either, yellow plating or, waving antenni. Spotting neither the frontliner slid his legs over edge of the top bunk and dropped to the floor quietly. Prodding the twin bond gave him nothing but a affectionate pulse from his brother, confusing Sideswipe. 

The Autobot was pretty confident that Sunstreaker had come back to their shared quarters and found him and Bob, so, why was he clean and where was the anger and accusations he expected to hear. Why wasn’t Sunstreaker here, pounding the scrap out of him and telling him how much Sideswipe disgusted him?

Feeling lost, the frontliner wandered over to the washracks to check if his twin was inside. He usually was but he was currently not in the washracks. That was strange. Well, as long as the washracks were unoccupied, he might as well make use of them. 

Sideswipe turned the solvent on and leaned against the wall, letting the warm liquid cascade down his frame as he popped open his interface panel. The crimson and black lips looked normal and nothing came rushing out to greet the open air so the frontliner hesitantly spread his lips with two fingers and curled a third into his valve. Nodes sang in discomfort and he flinched, hand jerking away from his interface array. Okay, so he could rule out wet dream. 

Sideswipe closed his panel and began to clean himself, sighing softly as grit was washed out from delicate joints. He rolled his shoulder gleeful that there was no grinding noise that usually accompanied the sand stuck in the ball joint. The frontliner started up a hum, trying to distract himself from the memories of the night before. 

By the time he was nearly done, the tension had bled out of his frame and he’d relaxed, no longer scared of his twin barging in and accusing him. The sound of the door to their quarters sliding open, however, brought the tension right back. He hunkered down, swallowing slight. The Autobot could hear, presumably, Sunstreaker moving around and he hesitated at turning off the solvent. 

After a second of anxious thought, Sideswipe turned it off. He wasn’t a frontliner for nothing, a coward wouldn’t have survived such a position, not to mention savor it like he and his brother did. Forgoing drying off, the more approachable twin found himself peeking out into the room to see Sunstreaker, alone. Bob was no where, no where he could see, anyway. 

At the sound of the washrack doors opening, the yellow twin looked up from his staring at his berth in trepidation. 

“We’re switching berths.” Sunstreaker announced crisply, turning around the face his brother, allowing the crimson frontliner to see the two cubes he carried in his hands. 

Sideswipe nervously edged out of his hiding place as Sunstreaker stalked towards him and thrust a ration into his hands. Then he turned and walked back to the berths, snatching a chair on the way to sit on. Sideswipe trailed after him, looking lost. He took a seat on the lower bunk and raised the cube to his lips, taking a sip of energon and then lowering it, looking down at the floor. His brother cleared his throat and began stoically. 

“Look, Sideswipe, you know that I love you.” Sideswipe gaze shot to his brother’s face. Sunstreaker’s handsome faceplates were twisted in a grimace but his side of the bond pulsed with love and adoration, calming Sideswipe. “And I’m not going to pretend I understand where this is coming from but… you know, that me of all mechs, that- Slag.” The yellow frontliner facepalmed, sighing heavily. “Look, I love you and this changes nothing except where we sleep alright? And that's just because you ruined my berth pad with all your… fluids.” 

Sideswipe stared at his twin, mouth agape, grip going slack and only the near spilling of his ration snapped him out of it. He hurriedly straightened the cube and reset his vocalizer. 

“I…” His voice trailed off before coming back, full of his normal, infectious cheer. “Of course Daffodil!” He ignored the frown that tugged the corners of his brother’s lips down, but took care to notice how his brother didn’t protest the moniker. “I love you too!” His side of the bond sang with happiness. 

“Oh! Were you the one who?” 

“Yes, I cleaned you up, you were a mess, why wouldn’t I have?” Emotions flittered between them, things they would not say out loud but sincerely meant anyway. 

Sideswipe finished the rest of his cube quickly, the ache of his tanks settling. Sunstreaker took his time, and was only halfway done when his brother finally asked, 

“Wheres Bob?” 

“Oh, I took him to Ratchet, to get neutered.” At the Sideswipe’s expression, Sunstreaker broke into laughter, the soft chuckle that Sideswipe almost never heard anymore. “I’m kidding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know whatcha think? And any suggestions for the last chapter?


	5. How Not to Lay An Egg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this was what you were all expecting so heres a warning, this chapter isn't too pleasent.

Sideswipe grinned viciously at Cliffjumper, shoving away from his table to stalk towards the mouthy red minibot.  
“Wanna say that again, cogsucker?” He glanced backwards to share a look with his twin, who was watching the alteration intently, cube forgotten. The other residents of the frontliner table were watching equally aptly, fingers digging little furrows in the tabletop.  
“Yeah!” Cliffjumper snarled, glowering hotly at Sideswipe, ignoring the half hearted protests from his friends. They all knew how this went. The red minibot insulted the red twin, they’d scuffle a bit, trade some more insults and both would stalk away ready to relieve some charge. Nothing new.  
That was why, when Sideswipe collapsed after a punch in the stomach from Cliffjumper that the frontliner would usually brush right off, everyone was alarmed. Sunstreaker cleared the table standing in between him and his brother with an easy hop and propelled himself through the crowd of observers, skidding to a stop at his brother's side.  
Sideswipe had somewhat regained cousiness, but he looked disconnected and confused. At his twin’s touch of his shoulder, the crimson frontliner blinked and made a soft questioning noise that was more like a groan. His brother helped him sit up and Cliffjumper, who had been wringing his hands anxiously, lost some of the tension clearly visible in the set of his shoulders.  
This was the moment before everything went to hell, so to speak. Sideswipe suddenly doubled over and purged in his own lap. The crowd surrounding the duo had lurched away from the spray but Sunstreaker ignored the splattering of half processed energon that marred his perfect yellow paint in favor of worriedly checking on Sideswipe. The red twin had fallen back and laid writhing, one hand clutching at his brother so hard the plating of his arm buckled while the other scratched at the ground.  
Sideswipe keened in pain, optics flashing white in distress and Sunstreaker snarled at nothing, buffeting Ratchet with a series of urgent pings demanding his presence in the mess hall. There was a terrified howl from the red frontliner as, to the astonished optics of the avidly watching soldiers, his abdomen seemed to flex out and his interfacing panel flew open with an audible snap.  
At this point, Sunstreaker, under a barrage of emotional and physical distress from his brother through the twin bond and with battle protocols active and with no clear target, lurched away from his twin and at Cliffjumper. The minibot scrambled away in panic from the pouncing, madly snarling frontliner and the crowd unfroze to pull them apart before damage was done.  
They were unsuccessful, Cliffjumper’s helm hit the floor with a sickening crack and his optics went offline as his body went frighteningly limp. At the loss of resistance from his previously struggling target and the hands on his person, pulling him away from his victim coupled with another pain filled scream from Sideswipe the yellow frontliner stood, swayed for half a second and then threw himself at the biggest threat, Ironhide.  
The weapons master grunted at the impact and fell back hard, Sunstreaker upon him. The situation was quickly getting worse and at a lost Ironhide simply rolled over the furious twin, effectively immobilizing him. Sunstreaker howled in outrage but Ironhide calmly pinged Prowl for assistance and focused on the mirror image of the mech under him spasming in pain.  
Ratchet suddenly burst into the messhall and spotting Sideswipe encircled by a few concerned individuals, shoved them away from the crimson mech and commed Jazz. The medic grimaced and made quick work of deducing whether or not Sideswipe could be moved.  
Prowl and Jazz, one on the heels on the other, sprinted into the room. Quickly making sense of the mess in the messhall as well as they could with their limited intel, Prowl went over to Ironhide to help with the growling yellow frontliner while Jazz took it upon himself to kick everyone out of the room as fast as he could.  
Under their combined efforts, Sunstreaker was restrained and slapped into a pair of cuffs and the room was emptied of all mechs but the officers and the twin frontliners raising hell, however unintentionally.  
Ratchet took charge, he lifted the red mech who cried out more loudly and began hurrying to the door, to his medbay.  
Ironhide pushed himself off the floor and hauled Sunstreaker with him, brushing off Prowl when the black and white tried to help.  
“I’ll take ‘em to ta brig.” He told the other officer gruffly, “Go with Jazz.”  
The other black and white had followed Ratchet, a bit at a loss, though it wasn’t reflected in the cool cerulean of his ever impassive visor. Prowl did not hesitate to follow the two on their way, carrying a load of motionless, but not silent, frontliner.  
First Aid met them at the medbay door and nervously paced around the berth chosen by Ratchet to rest Sideswipe in. If he was surprised by the fact that Sideswipe’s interface panel was open, or by the absence of Sunstreaker, he did not show it in the slightest.  
Jazz and Prowl stood against the wall to keep out of the way and both crossed their arms, faces neutral. First Aid left Sideswipe’s side long enough to bring Ratchet the tools of his trade and then took guard at Sideswipe’s right, taking the frontliner’s hand and managing not to flinch at the crimson mech’s powerful grip.  
Sideswipe moaned brokenly. The journey had done nothing but make the pain worse and already, this was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Sideswipe babbled helplessly at Ratchet, nearly squeezing the life out of the hovering First Aid’s hand. He wanted Sunny here and he wanted the pain to stop and he wanted the officers to stop staring at him with that look in their optics.  
As if reading his mind, Ratchet whirled around and barked angrily at them, demanding they get out and to get Wheeljack over here asap.  
Wheeljack was good enough, Sideswipe thought, feeling bile rise in his throat again. Not as good as Sunny but close enough. He gurgled and First Aid helped him roll onto his side long enough to purge neatly into a provided bin.  
Sideswipe slumped back against the berth, exhausted and blinking away the welling tears. He wanted Sunny here, he wanted to feel the comforting pulse of his other half. Instead, he watched Ratchet go through familiar motions he’d memorized from countless medbay visits and clung onto First Aid’s hand as if his life depended on it.  
Suddenly, optics bleached white with concern filled his whole view. The optics pulled back and Sideswipe could make out the wrinkles and lines that marked Ratchet’s face from too much stress and worry.  
“Sideswipe?” The medic asked, “Can you hear me?” The frontliner just warbled weakly, spasming a bit as a strong wave of pain flooded through his body.  
“I’m going to put you out, ok?” The crimson mech squished First Aid’s hand harder and managed a nod, reminding himself to thank the nurse later as Ratchet plugged himself into the frontliner and accessed heavily guarded protocols.  
A slurry of text flashed across his vision and his last thought before he fell into stasis was of his missing twin. 

Sideswipe moaned lowly as he onlined, there was a hint of soreness and the telltale numbness of painblockers. That meant he was probably in the medbay. He kept his optics offline as he thought carefully. What had he done recently to warrant a trip to Ratchet and the good painblockers? There hadn’t been any Decepticon activity lately so chances are it wasn’t a fight.  
Oh… his faceplates paled I fucked the bug, I fucked up. He sent a panicked wave at Sunstreaker through the bond and relaxed minutely when it was returned with an additional wave of love.  
Where are you? He couldn’t help but ask. The other half of his spark didn’t seem to be nearby and he onlined his optics briefly to check. Nope, no sight of shiny yellow plating. Huh, no sign of angry red medic either.  
There was a soft whurrchurr and a nuzzle against his side that had him freezing. What the frag was that? Blue optics nervously peeked down at his bottom half only to widen considerably at the sight of six little insecticons who looked like mini Bobs with a crimson paintjob.  
“Muh?” One of the pups woke and blinked at him sleepily, purring softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats a wrap folks. I might end up doing an aftermath oneshot later on if I feel up for it but for now this is officially finished. Lemme know whatcha think :3 Also, a note, next story will hopefully be a two chaptered Cosmos/Soundwave affair!


	6. Jazz, Detective Extraordinaire: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is late. But, surprise! Its gonna be a two-part chapter to make up for it. The second half will be in Prowl's perspective.  
> Also, um, this isn't beta'd and I did not read it over, not even once so forgive any mistakes but tell me about them please :>

“Sooo…” Jazz began, as he hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to Sideswipe, smiling widely as the pups suddenly swarmed him, cheeping happily. “Ya ever gon tell us wha happened?” When Sideswipe glared at him, the officer held his hands up in surrender and shot him a disarming grin.  
It was just Jazz! Completely trustworthy Jazz who wasn’t asking because he really really really wanted to know, nope, he was must mildly curious but it wasn’t like he needed to know, nope, perish the thought. Sideswipe remained unconvinced by his submissive body language but his expression became less outright hostile.  
Sensing the frontliner would, and could, shut him up if he continued his line of questioning, Jazz turned his visor towards the pups, cooing softly at the little ones as they wiggled all over his lap asking for treats and if not treats, at least, scritches. The black and whites, the pups were convinced, gave the best scritches. Period.  
The Spec Ops mech freed one hand from under the mass of a pup and rummaged in his subspace until he found some small energon goodies Prowl had gifted him. Jazz had asked Ratchet if it was alright to feed the pups this type of energon and the medic had given him the okay. He pulled them out of his subspace and showed them to Sideswipe.  
“Iz it alright?” He asked the frontliner, leaning back to playfully crush Syllabub between the soft material of the couch and his back armor. The pup squeaked and squirmed out, fluffing creamy colored, apple red highlighted armor at the black and white who laughed and waggled black digits at him. Their carrier smirked at their antics and nodded, stroking Panos, the only pup who’d stayed with him instead of flocking the Spec Ops mech.  
“It’s fine Jazz, Sunstreaker promised to help me tire them out before their naptime.” There was a hint of mischief in the frontliner’s voice. Jazz could appreciate that. The last time Sides got Sunny to help tucker the pups out, the vain mech had ended up covered in tiny handprints in a rainbow of colors. It wasn’t very surprising that Sunstreaker hadn’t made a fuss until after the babes had been out to bed. If it hadn’t been for the show in the messhall, everyone would have thought that the yellow frontliner was the carrier, not Sideswipe.  
Jazz cackled then, remembering the scene Sunstreaker had caused when one of the toys Perceptor had made for the sparklings had broken. The nose of a turbofox had popped off and Sunny had ranted about how Cranachan could have swallowed it and choked. The honey and raspberry colored pup put everything in her mouth, much to the twin’s dismay. Jazz couldn’t help another giggle as he brought up an image capture of Wheeljack’s face at the moment Sunstreaker vehemently refused his offer to make the hatchlings some toys if Perceptor’s craftsmanship was lacking.  
“YOUCH!” The black and white suddenly winced. Trifle has latched onto one of his fingers and the mechling’s sharp denta had drawn energon. He gently shook the amber pup off and inspected the damage. Not too bad. He turned to look at Sideswipe seriously.  
“We needa teach ‘em to do better.” He joked, tone deadpan but EM field light and loose. Sideswipe laughed, snatching up Trifle to coo at him. The officer smiled at the sight.  
“So! Who wants a treat?” The peeping began again frantically. The black and white popped open the little box holding the treats and shook out some soft chews, giving one to each pup and then a second to Marnier and Pavlova, who may or may not have been his favorites, before handing the box to Sideswipe, who sarcastically thanked him as he was swarmed by hungry sparklings.  
“Right so,” Jazz began as he stood and gave a luxurious stretch, “I gotta go bother Red now, see ya Sides.” He shot the frontliner an easy grin and then turned it towards the camera in the rec room, knowing Red Alert could see it. If anyone knew what was up, besides Jazz which this time he didn’t, it was Red Alert. The security chief saw all and then some. He figured he could pop into the security office and pick the officer’s processor for clues until either the lambo, or Inferno, kicked him out of the room.  
He gave Syllabub one last pat and departed, resisting the urge to disappear and just pop into the security office unannounced. As funny as it would be, if he wanted Red Alert’s help, he had to play nice which meant no unnecessary scares. He purposely stayed in sight of the cameras as they monitored his stroll to Red Alert’s office.  
At the door, he waved cheerfully at the watching camera, rocking on his heel wheels. When the door refused to budge, he allowed a hint of a pout to appear on his faceplates, visor gazing pleadingly through the camera at the mech he knew was watching. .:Reddd:. He sang through the open comm. .:Lemme in?:.  
.:No:. The officer replied dourly, .:I know what you’re here for, shoo:.  
Jazz whined and twisted to sulk away back to the rec room. He knew that when Red Alert got like that, attempting to change the mech’s mind was like kicking a beehive. Well, he thought, more like a wasp’s nest what with daddy Inferno and all.  
Bothering Red Alert was sure to bother Inferno and woe behold whoever bothered Inferno.  
For a moment, Jazz resented Prowl’s order which had led to the connection the two security mechs had formed but, it was for the best, he grudgingly reminded himself. Even if it personally made it difficult for him to gather intel.  
He suddenly lit up. Prowl! He could ask Prowl what was up. The Praxian quite possibly knew why Sideswipe had suddenly ended up with a litter of adorable sparklings that Jazz was seriously considering the theft of. He liked sparklings and Prowl never gave into his needling for any. Jazz blew a mental raspberry, what a meanie.  
The black-and-white twirled around suddenly, flashed a grin at the newbies staring at him in surprise and started towards Prowl’s office. He knew Red Alert had probably already informed Prowl that Jazz was coming to visit as soon as the saboteur had changed directions but Prowl probably hadn’t locked his office door on him. Probably.  
The SIC wasn’t actually on shift right now, after all. He just tended to spend his free time either with Jazz or in his office. And as Jazz was currently strolling down the halls all by his lonesome, Powl must of been sequestered away working on the datapads that never seemed to lessen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will hopefully be up soon? After this we have some PJ which will we be either 3 or 4 chapters long but will be updated all at once. Or at least I'll try to finish it and upload all at once :3


	7. Jazz, Detective Extraordinaire: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite satisfied with how this came out or ended but I'm posting it anyway. To anyone who cares, I might end up rewriting this and uploading it when I write an ending that I like more. In addition, if I do end up rewriting this I won't be deleting the first draft.

.:Thank you for the notice Red Alert:. Prowl intoned as he casually switched apps on his datapad. A shift change request replaced the cheery colors of the recreational game Prowl had been busy playing while Jazz was away. The TIC didn’t need to know that when the smaller black-and-white was busy elsewhere Prowl played strategy games because when Jazz thought Prowl was working too hard, he acted particularly allusive.  
The Praxian looked up from the datapad at the knock on the door, which was out of character enough to make his doorwings tense the slightest. He pinged the door to open and, much to his surprise, did not see Jazz but Optimus.  
His Prime smiled at him pleasantly, he could tell by the crinkles around his eyes, and stepped into the sparsely decorated office, taking a seat in the chair made for larger frames in front of Prowl’s desk. He still looked funny squeezed into the seat that could hold Trailbreaker comfortably but had trouble seating Ultra Magnus on the rare occasions where he came to speak to Prowl in his office.  
“Prowl.” Optimus greeted, setting his hands on his knees and glancing around the room. “Jazz asked me to come to your office. He informed me he is on his way.”  
“Oh,” Prowl began, faintly, “I was unaware you would be joining us.” One of his optics twitched even as his doorwings remained perfectly still. Mentally, he was running through all the reasons Jazz would need to speak to both Optimus and him.  
If it had been a very important matter, they would have been in the Prime’s officer or the heavily secured closet that Jazz called his office even though there was a perfectly serviceable office with his name on its door; not in Prowl’s office. Sure, it was just as secure as Optimus’ office and only second best to Jazz’s office, Red Alert and Ratchet’s offices were on a whole nother level so they didn’t count according to Jazz, but when it came to very important matters Jazz didn’t seem to like the SIC’s office.  
Prowl was sure Jazz had mentioned something about the unsettling lack of personal mementos in the office.  
Cheerful whistling was heard as the mech in question strolled through the door. The particular song Jazz was whistling made Prowl twitch again. Jazz only whistled the song from Twisted Nerve when he was up to something particularly devious. Like when he’d sent Tracks and Sunstreaker packages full of glitter, and not the sequin kind that was relatively easier to clean up but the Extra Fine Glitter that got everywhere and could be found hidden in crevices long after the rest of it had been cleaned up.  
Prowl saw the way Optimus twitched as well and felt some relief that his Prime was probably remembering the same thing his SIC was and was probably feeling just as apprehensive as him.  
The saboteur plopped into the free chair and beamed at them, doorwings fluttering happily.  
“I’m sure ya’ll wonderin what I called ya ‘ere for.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair he was sprawled on, just shy from looking indecent and Prowl couldn’t help but grimace. He knew he should probably be used to the way Jazz sat but it still tended to bother him. Less when he was alone with Jazz, if he was being truthful.  
Optimus leaned forward curiously.  
“I ‘ave a question fer you two.” And Optimus leaned back, telegraphing his dread. Jazz’s Questions were famous for being either uncomfortable or just plain strange. “Now, I’m sure you know ‘bout Sides’ tatertots.” Cue two tentative nods. Jazz smiled again with less teeth but it didn’t make his two captives feel any better.  
“I was just wonderin, what I gotta do to get me some of ‘em?”  
Two EM fields suddenly blanked and then flooded with shock, though Optimus’ also contained glee.  
Prowl was absolutely blindsided. Jazz had mentioned wanting sparklings to him some several times before but the Praxian had never thought that the saboteur would go as far as to involve Optimus, who was enchanted by Sideswipe’s tiny beings. To defend himself, the SIC thought his lover had only mentioned sparklings in jest but this moment right now let it clearly be known that Jazz, the TIC of the Autobot army, wanted sparklings. And Prowl was assuming the other mech hadn’t decided this on a whim because the first mention had been a long time before Sideswipe’s bunch had entered the picture.  
Optimus, during Prowl’s internal monologue, had been busy conversing excitedly with his TIC about colors, and names, and alts. When Prowl tuned back in, he heard a quite animated argument over four-wheelers v.s. eighteen-wheelers and which was better. Jazz seemed quite insistent that his little ones would be tiny, lightweight racers.  
Considering Prowl’s frame and Jazz’s frame, the tactician was inclined to agree with his lover. Prowl wasn’t technically a race car but he was a pursuit vehicle and while Jazz was lighter than Prowl, they pretty much matches in terms of speed.  
It was around this time, when Prowl realized he’d been seriously considering what Jazz’s and his offspring would look like, that the officer decided to start running scenarios in where he said yes, when Jazz asked for sparklings.  
Obviously, Jazz would be the one carrying. The spy had been quite insistent about harboring the bitlets and Prowl saw no reason to say no to that condition. The SIC considered how long of a leave to request, the sooner the deed was done, the better. Any sparklings they had would be able to grow up with Sideswipe’s offspring even if the hatchlings would be a significant amount bigger than Jazz’s bitlets. And not just because the pups would be older but also considering how bigger the twins were than Jazz and Prowl.  
“Prime, do you think a week would be long enough to successfully produce a sparkling or two?” Prowl allowed his hands to drop back to his desk, unsure of when they had lifted and clasped in a classic villain thinking pose.  
Optimus paused in the middle of his sentence, allowing himself a quick minute.  
“Two weeks would be better than one.” He finally declared and it was only then that Jazz picked up on the seriousness of Prowl’s EM field.  
“Ya mean you ain’t jokin?” The black-and-white asked eagerly, sitting up and squirming in his chair, delighted.  
“No, I am not Jazz.”


	8. Flash Forward (Requested by KittyKatt25)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally posting the requested additional chapter featuring Jazz's bitlets and guest starring Smokes and OP. 
> 
> Sorry for the tardiness and any spelling/grammar errors. This is unchecked.

“Maestro! Stop that! Please?” Sideswipe changed his tone quickly when Jazz sent the larger mech a deadly glare for daring to yell at one of his most precious tatertots. Maestro continued gnawing on Pavlova, who honestly could care less about his favorite playmate playfully biting at his reinforced armor. Codis, from where she’d been curled sleepily around Syllabub and almost blending in with the older pup’s cream colored plating, stretched suddenly as she woke.

  
Jazz cooed at her, prevented from scooping her up to nuzzle her by his armful of blankets and pillows. 

Sideswipe dropped his matching load of bedding atop of Trifle, who yowled unhappily and roused Bob from where he was sprawled with the rest of his and Sides’ offspring. Seeing nothing had befallen the grumpy and nippy pup, Bob’s helm lowered again and his purring started back up.   
Jazz laughed a bit at Trifle’s upset noises and dropped his pillows and blankets to carefully hoist the amber pup up. Trifle immediately tried fastening their teeth in the black-and-white’s plating.

  
Sideswipe cocked a hip and placed his hands on his waist, surveying the half finished pillow fort Jazz had begun for the tatertots before he’d run out of supplies and gone to steal recover more and recruit Sides.

  
The mismatched mess of pillows had a sturdy foundation going, and the glossy white sheets Sides was sure belonged to Mirage created a mostly complete roof. It looked like Jazz had needed more pillows than blankets to finish his project he thought, looking down at the camouflage blankets he’d stolen from Hound and the soft red sheets he’d taken off Cliffjumper’s berth with slight regret.

  
By no means was he regretting stealing the fiery minibot’s bedding, but he was sort of, maybe regretting, just a tad, taking Hound’s sheets. Since Mirage’s sheets were part of the pillow fort, it was likely the two Autobots would be sleeping on plain berths tonight, no matter which room they chose to sleep in tonight. Ah well.

  
When Sideswipe roused from his thoughts, Jazz had plopped Trifle in the mess of pups around Bob and was fussing with the pillow fort again.

  
Sides collected his own stash of plundered pillows from the floor and gleefully began to help.

* * *

 

When Prowl walked into the room with Smokescreen, the two Praxians stared in amazement and bewilderment at the complex pillowfort that currently hid two mecha, one bug, and eight mismatched offspring from them and the justice of the law.

  
The larger ‘bot snapped out of it quicker, and sighed as he began picking up camouflage and red bedding off the floor.

"Jazz, Sideswipe,” Prowl began as Smokescreen finally closed his jaw, “you will be apologizing to Mirage, Hound, and Cliffjumper for stealing their sheets and blankets.”

  
A cry of outrage came from the fort, most likely originating from the red lambo at the thought of apologizing to Cliffjumper for anything.

  
Smokescreen cocked his hip and crossed his arms, amused and not terribly inclined to begin picking up anything. The show starting between the SIC and the other two Autobots deserved his full attention.

  
The crimson frontliner briefly popped into view, apparently from some hatch they’d built into the pillow fort's roof.

  
“You’ll never take us alive!” He screamed at them, Trifle yowling at them in agreement from where she was curled in his arms.

  
Distracted as they were by the loud frontliner, the sudden attack from Jazz floored them. Literally.

  
The two praxians laid on the ground, reeling from being knocked over by pillows thrown with surprising accuracy and force, and considered carefully the proper response.

  
Smokescreen sat up and was immediately buffeted by another pillow for his error in judgment. Prowl wisely stayed down, turning his head to stare at the pillow that’d bowled him over, planning hard.

  
“Smokescreen” Prowl intoned, dragging a pillow towards himself without sitting up, “this is war.”

* * *

 

Optimus stared at the collected group seated in his office, as he had been doing for a decent bit of time already. Jazz ignored him and cooed at Codis and Maestro, who laid in his lap sleeping peacefully. Prowl stared back at his Prime, a bit at a loss. Sideswipe rocked back and forth, seated on his servos with Bob at his feet, Sunstreaker having collected the pups already in a huff. Smokescreen had forfeited the meeting, on the count of having to stay in the Medbay for a spell while Ratchet worked on his injuries.

  
The other three sitting in the office had all thought at different points into this “meeting” about how lucky Smokes was. Jazz had tacked on some choice commentary.

  
At least Smokescreen would be fine, Optimus thought, sighing heavily and reclining in his chair.

  
The ‘bots in front of him twitched at the noise, Jazz turning his twitch into a loving caress of one of his babes, leaving everyone else none the wiser to the fact that he’d reacted at all.

  
Optimus sighed again and directed his next comment at Prowl.

  
“What the frag happened?”

  
Jazz promptly screamed LANGUAGE into the group comm. 


End file.
